


Hide Under the Covers

by In_love_with_writing002



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eskel's sexy adventures, Gen, I call the ship Lambutt okay, M/M, TAD reference, The ship isn't really the focus, alcohol consumption, and I will die on that hill, and other iconic Witcher stories, fear of storms, just a bonus, kind of crack!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25123864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_love_with_writing002/pseuds/In_love_with_writing002
Summary: “Is he alright?” Jaskier asked.“Lambert always complains when there’s a storm. Says it makes his “old bones” ache. Like he has any room to talk.”“I think he’s scared of the weather,” Geralt said, his voice slurred slightly from his drink. “He was when he was younger, but said the trials knocked the fear out of him. I’m pretty sure it was bullshit.”
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion & Lambert, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Comments: 14
Kudos: 170





	Hide Under the Covers

**Author's Note:**

> Look sometimes I just need soft Lambutt. Also this one came from my discord server. So thanks to Mighty for the prompt and Kev for enabling me and giving some suggestions as well :)) Y’all can expect a couple other very soft Lambutt stories because I am inches away from finishing a slow burn fic (yet to be titled) with them and I need some immediate serotonin from this pairing.
> 
> Unedited, very little planning.

It was getting to be towards the middle of winter in Kaer Morhen, and the snow was at its heaviest. Jaskier didn’t mind being cooped up inside though, as it was better than Vesemir demanding they shovel the courtyards every day.

He’d spent most of his time composing, writing songs about the old keep and stories about the people who lived there. Getting Geralt back to his home (with the help of some White gull) was a sure way to loosen his tongue on the details of his past. And the others were just as willing to chat, though Vesemir was more reserved. Eskel had shockingly raunchy tales to tell, and his dry wit had Jaskier more often than not laughing himself to tears. Hearing the tales about succubi and fisstech, sirens and a vacation in Skellige, and other more ridiculous tales were a stark contrast to his initial impression.

Lambert, on the other hand, Jaskier could never be sure if he was telling the truth. The wolf held an air of mischief about him, and Jaskier was convinced he was embellishing more often than not. (Twenty wargs? really?) But he was a good storyteller, Jaskier had to give him that. And his attitude, though it made him seem grouchy, was another thing Jaskier found himself liking.

It was a dark and stormy night in the keep for another evening of storytelling and drinking, though the air seemed tenser than it had been on previous days. Lambert was also suspiciously quieter than usual, leaving Eskel to be the main narrator for the night. Jaskier was drilling him about what Geralt was like when he was younger and, much to the other witcher’s annoyance, Eskel was more than happy to share. He was in the middle of talking about a particular shenanigan involving trapping a bee in a jug when Lambert stood rather abruptly and declared himself done for the evening.

“Aw, but we only just started!” Jaskier complained. They had not, in fact, just started. They’d been at it for a solid few hours.

“I’m tired,” he snapped back. “Don’t let me ruin your fun though, have a decent evening. I’m just not feeling up to it.” it was much gentler than his first words, and Jaskier couldn’t help but feel concerned. When Lambert wandered off, he turned a worried frown at Eskel.

“Is he alright?” Jaskier asked.

“Lambert always complains when there’s a storm. Says it makes his “old bones” ache. Like he has any room to talk.”

“I think he’s scared of the weather,” Geralt said, his voice slurred slightly from his drink. “He was when he was younger, but said the trials knocked the fear out of him. I’m pretty sure it was bullshit.”

Jaskier kept himself from putting a hand on his chest like an awed mother. What a wholesome thing. Maybe that was the rum talking.

“I’m going to go check on him,” Jaskier said. “If he complains, I’ll blame it on being a human and having emotions. That ought to be enough.” He hoped Lambert wouldn’t lash out immediately though, he just wanted to offer some comfort.

Jaskier stood from the table, turning towards the rooms with only a small stumble. He really ought to stop drinking so much every night. He sauntered towards where Lambert’s room was, knocking on the door.

“Lambert,” he said, pressing his face to the wood. “Are you alright?” No response. “Lambert, if you don’t say anything I’m just going to come in.”

From the door across the hall, a voice spoke.

“Wrong room, dumbass.” Jaskier turned around as though nothing had happened and, instead of knocking, decided Lambert’s answer was invitation enough to barge in.

“Lambert,” he greeted as soon as he got inside, not bothering to take stock of what was happening. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” grumbled a voice from the bed in the room. A strained voice. A decidedly _not_ fine voice.

“Lies,” Jaskier hissed, stumbling his way through the dark to the bed. “Geralt says you’re afraid of storms.” He moved his hands around until he found a Lambert-sized lump in the covers, sliding underneath to join him without thinking of the consequences. Or, apparently, that he’s been wearing his shoes.

“What the fuck are you doing in my bed?” Lambert asked, voice slightly shrill. “Get out- are you, Jaskier get your feet off of my back!”

Jaskier murmured an apology to him and stood up, taking off his boots and outer layers. “I took off my shoes,” he said as he slid back under the blankets.

_“Why_ are you _here?”_ Lambert demanded, though he didn’t actively push Jaskier away. Not even when Jaskier shuffled up against his back and slung an arm over him. “Jaskier…”

“Don’t want you to be afraid,” Jaskier said. There was something he could do here, he knew that. But something was missing. Not just the tiny detail of what exactly that was, something bigger, and heavier.

“I’m not scared,” Lambert said, right as thunder rumbled loudly outside and he cried out, scared.

“Hm,” Jaskier said as Lambert shuddered in his arms. “You’re not afraid?”

“It’s…” Lambert sounded like he was fighting with himself. “It’s just loud,” he admitted. “And it reminds me of some… not great times. Don’t you fucking say anything to the others.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Jaskier said, despite knowing that he had no actual control over what he did and did not dream about. “How can I help?” He was still feeling the effects of the alcohol, though his thought process was improving as his brain realized there was an important task at hand.

“You don’t have to do this,” Lambert said after a moment, voice carefully even. Lightning flashed in the high window of the room, and Lambert shied away even from that. Jaskier held him tighter.

“I want to,” Jaskier mumbled. “I can tell you stories, if that’ll help, or sing—” Oh that was what he’d been trying to remember. His lute. “I don’t have my lute but I can sing to you.”

“Just…” Lambert shuffled around on the bed, and Jaskier’s breath hitched a little when he pressed his face into Jaskier’s neck. “Just stay here.”

Jaskier slid his arm around Lambert’s torso and squeezed, lightly. Lambert sighed, and Jaskier could already feel the soft hum of music in his throat. A lullabye, from when he was younger and got scared of thunder.

“It’s alright,” Jaskier whispered, brushing a kiss over Lambert’s forehead. It wasn’t even meant as a romantic gesture, just to soothe him. It did the trick because, when the thunder rumbled again, Lambert didn’t shake... much. “I’m here for you.”

He closed his eyes and started humming softly, waiting until Lambert’s trembling ceased, and then slept beside him until the morning came.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me, this fic, and others like it on tumblr as [In-love-with-writing002](https://in-love-with-writing002.tumblr.com/)


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